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“I’ve known Ember since grade school. She was a lifelong Virginian until she fell for that pesky wolf.”

Ryker suddenly remembered the petite human woman with frank gray eyes whom he’d met once or twice in Claire’s company. “Wait. You didn’t tell me Ember moved to Harmony Ridge.”

Claire shrugged. “I didn’t think to. Y’all don’t know each other well enough for you to track her down while you were there. But yes, my now-long-distance best friend happens to live in your town, Leslie.”

“The wolves would call that fate,” Leslie said with a laugh.

Ryker laughed too, and his girlfriend seemed startled. “What?”

“Not having to hide that your fangs are down. I was taught to slake in private.”

“Even away from your parents?”

“Oh, no, I’ve seen their fangs plenty of times. But home is the only place I’ve ever…”

She looked around the room, and Ryker followed her gaze, tried to see it all through her eyes, new and surprising. On the far side from the bar were the privacy booths with their transparent sound-blocking partitions. Between here and there, the wood floor was spread with rugs to dampen harsh echoes. The tablesand chairs were standard as far as bar furnishings went, but the high ceiling was hung with soft draperies, another method of deadening acoustics that could cause the most sensitive of vampires to wince. The thermostat was set at eighty, and humidifiers added to the pleasantly designed climate.

All around them, vampires moved with quicksilver strides, spoke in tones like melodies, sipped from drinks and showed their fangs. The eyes of everyone in the room reflected light like jewels—everyone but Leslie. Ryker understood, or at least he tried to. Wearing the muted version of herself was more than habit; it was long ingrained, almost a survival skill. He hoped she’d soon see how free she was here. Free to be herself.

“Well?” he said. “First impressions?”

“I think I love it here,” she said.

He grinned some more, fangs and all. Mission accomplished.

Seventeen

It was so nice in here.

Leslie ought to come up with a better word, butnicejust fit. Her skin felt caressed by the indoor humidity and warmth. The scent of the bar’s primary beverage wasn’t too strong, despite many patrons sipping from glasses of deep red that only a human might mistake for wine. Leslie’s body felt somehow at home as she tried—and failed—to stop staring at the vampires who moved around the bar with the liquid grace they held back around humans. Their voices were a sweet soundtrack, so resonant and full, yet never loud. If she tried, of course she could tune in to individual conversations, but thanks to common etiquette and long habit she could allow them to slip past her thoughts without registering the words.

She forced herself to stop gawking like a kid at Disneyland and focused instead on Claire Vanderlaan. The woman was calmly impressive in a way Leslie couldn’t quite put her finger on. Claire’s chin-length hair was thick, lustrous, and the color of coffee grounds. Her eyes were a blend of blue and purple several shades darker than Leslie’s own. Her sleeveless dove-gray toprevealed toned arms and a tattoo on the inside of her bicep. She hadn’t yet extended her arm enough for a full view of the ink, and Leslie couldn’t make out what the image was.

“So, Claire, how long have you and Ryker known each other?”

“About four years,” Claire said.

“And do you know Tai, too?”

Claire’s eyes went pure metallic. “Unfortunately yes.”

“Oh. Um.” Instinct pushed Leslie a step back from the counter, though she couldn’t have said why. “Bad blood?”

Claire laughed. “I see what you did there.”

Her own laugh sounded hollow in comparison despite being equally sincere. She hadn’t managed to unmute yet. “No pun intended. And you don’t have to tell me.”

“I’m more than happy to tell you. Tai Kristiansen is arrogant, rude, fake… I could go on, but I won’t, because you’re dating his best friend, and Ryker and I have agreed to disagree about Tai.”

What on earth…? Ryker’s fangs had retracted by now, and he was biting his lip as if to keep himself quiet.

Before Leslie could choose her next words, Claire’s eyes lost their metallic sheen and returned to pure periwinkle. “Look, forget Tai. He’s not worth a conversation. Ryker, on the other hand, is a great friend of mine. I look forward to getting to know you better, Leslie.”

After a bit more small talk, Ryker offered to show her around. He led Leslie to the far side of the bar, where a row of cozy booths lined the wall, complete with transparent partitions.

“Check it out.” Ryker motioned Leslie behind the partition.

“I don’t get it,” she said. “If you can see through them, what’s the point?”